


Need Your Hands On Me

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [102]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Bottom Derek Hale, Communication, Endearments, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, M/M, POV Stiles, Praise Kink, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Derek isn't great at asking for what he wants in bed. Stiles tries to change that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnoyinglyCute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnoyinglyCute/gifts).



> This was a birthday present for my gorgeous babe [Steph](http://annoyinglycute.tumblr.com/), who deserves ALL the filthy porn. <3 Mom squad forever. <3
> 
> [Originally posted on Tumblr](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com/post/148443592066/need-your-hands-on-me).
> 
> Unbetaed.

Sex with Derek is the best thing _ever_. Stiles is aware that this statement means very little coming from someone with nothing but some sub-par kissing on his resume before Derek entered the picture, but still. Stiles maintains that Derek is some kind of sex god. Or just a really, _really_ generous lover, because he goes along with pretty much everything Stiles wants, always gets him off first, and generally just blows his goddamn mind every time.

 

But there’s one thing Derek is absolutely crap at. Which is saying what _he_ wants.

 

So Stiles stops everything when Derek makes his usual grunt-sigh that means he’s about to say something. He’s naked and on his front, and Stiles has up until now been having a perfectly good time licking around the black swirls on Derek’s back, and rutting gently against his tailbone, Derek sighing and squirming. Because he’s definitely a tiny bit ticklish, though he’ll never admit it, even on pain of death.

 

“Hm?” Stiles prompts, and Derek utters a tortured huff, as if he’s preparing for a root canal rather than conversation.

 

“Could you…” He trails off and tenses his shoulders, as if hoping Stiles will read his mind and just do whatever it is he’s in the mood for.

 

“Could I… what?” Stiles asks, making sure his voice is gentle with zero sarcasm in it, because nothing will kill the mood faster than Derek thinking he’s being mocked.

 

“I… I’d like it if you.”

 

Derek literally stops there, as if that’s a perfectly good place to end a sentence, and Stiles wiggles slightly where he’s straddling Derek’s thighs, until there’s a small defeated sound.

 

“Could you… put your hands on… on my…. on _me_.”

 

Again, no proper punctuation, which Stiles will definitely mock him for another time, but at least now they’re getting somewhere.

 

“Sure. Anywhere specific?” Stiles asks, giving Derek’s hips a little squeeze to remind him that Stiles technically already _has_ his hands on him.

 

Derek tenses again, and this time Stiles sighs, because at this rate they’ll be old and gray before anyone gets off. “I know I’m awesome, but I can’t _actually_ read your mind, dude.”

 

Calling Derek _dude_ is usually a surefire way to rile him up, and this time is no different. Derek actually rolls his head to the side so his mouth is no longer obscured by his arms, and enunciates _clearly_.

 

“Put your hands on my ass. Please,” he adds belatedly, but in all honesty, Stiles is excited enough just from the fact that Derek wants something specific, that he can’t make himself care about pleasantries. He wastes no time fulfilling the request, and Derek’s bone-deep sigh when Stiles molds both hands to his buttocks is extremely gratifying.

 

“Want me to eat you out?” Stiles asks, because he knows Derek likes that almost as much as he hates asking for it.

 

But Derek shakes his head, and buries his face in his arms again. “Just your hands, please. And your… fingers.”

 

Stiles knows Derek well enough by now to know exactly what that means, and he’s more than happy giving Derek what he wants.

 

It might be because of his ridiculously firm muscles, or just personal preference, but Derek loves it when Stiles digs his fingers in hard, and basically treats Derek’s body like Play-Doh. So he does. Squeezes and gropes, making greedy handfuls of that perfectly shaped ass, parting the cheeks and pressing them together again, enjoying the view as well as the blissed out sighs from Derek.

 

As much as Stiles struggles with taking his time in almost everything he does, he’s never had that problem when it comes to sex. Possibly only with Derek, but seeing as Stiles has no immediate plans to trade Derek off for a crappier model, he’s fine not knowing the deeper reasons behind it. All he knows right now is that there’s no rush. He feels no reason to sprint towards the end when the middle is so amazingly good.

 

Stiles is still a teenager, for another month, anyway, and he hasn’t had the opportunity to develop any real level of stamina, so when it’s for himself, Stiles is very much a race-to-the-finish kinda guy. But, as he came to realize very early on with Derek, there’s something really amazing about making someone else feel good. It makes Stiles almost forget his own lust, his entire focus zeroing in on making it good for his partner. For Derek. Derek who deserves all the good things in life, but have mostly gotten crap. Stiles is determined to make it up to him, and sex seems a good place to start. All Derek has to do is lie there and feel.

 

He’s not great at it, Stiles will admit that much, but considering he just asked for something that included zero participation on his side, Stiles thinks Derek has made great progress. And that calls for a reward.

 

So Stiles spends even more time than usual just feeling around, fingers trailing from Derek’s lower back, brushing across his crack, and down to follow the slope of each buttock, repeating the motion until Derek starts making those little impatient huffs Stiles knows so well. Only then does he dip his fingers in between just massaging at first, fingertips dry on the furled rim, but Derek likes that.

 

For a while Stiles had worried that Derek was into pain, because as much as Stiles likes his porn with a side of kinky, he’s not fond of actual pain play. He doesn’t like hurting people, though he’ll do it if he has to, and as for himself, anything more than some gentle spanking will kill the mood for him.

 

But eventually Stiles learned that what Derek likes isn’t pain, but a firm touch. _Everywhere_. He likes hard pinching, rough groping, sharp scraping of teeth and scratching of nails, just to get warmed up for the main event. And he likes it when Stiles rubs him a little raw. Which is exactly what he’s doing now. Stroking and dragging his fingers across the lightly furred edge of his hole, until the skin feels hot and slightly swollen, and Derek is panting helplessly into a pillow. Only then does Stiles find the lube.

 

Derek makes an amazing noise when Stiles spreads the cool gel between his buttocks, making sure everything is slick, before slipping just the tip of a single finger inside. He can’t help but gasp himself as Derek’s hole opens right up for his finger, obligingly taking the entire length of it with no resistance.

 

“More,” Derek sighs immediately, and Stiles is not about to deny him anything. The second finger isn’t much of a stretch either, and Derek spreads his legs wider, blatantly inviting them in, hips hitching minutely. He’s not really fucking back on them, but the movements are sort of hinting at it, and the few times they’ve done this before it always ended that way. And Stiles is completely on board with that.

 

He braces a hand on the small of Derek’s back, and dips his fingers back inside, adding a little twist as he pushes them deep, and Derek grunts hotly into the pillow. “Like this?” Stiles asks, though he doesn’t need to. But he kinda wants to see if he can make Derek actually talk for once. Maybe a little practice would make it easier for him to ask for stuff he wants later on.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Derek sighs, face still stuffed into his arms, but he does arch up his neck to pant when Stiles does it again, going as slow as he can.

 

“Want it faster? Or harder?” He keeps up the slow pace as Derek apparently considers his choices, and Stiles feels like feeding him cookies or something when he delivers an answer of more than one word.

 

“I want more. More fingers. I want… want you to fill me.”

 

The back of his neck is flaming red, and Stiles is so proud of him. “Anything you want, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you ask for.”

 

Derek burrows his face into his arms again, always going a little squirmy and weird when Stiles brings out the endearments, but he also clearly loves it, judging from how he pushes back more urgently. Adding more lube, Stiles starts working in a third finger, and Derek’s hips wiggle impatiently. But Stiles isn’t about to hurt him, and pushes down on the small of his back. “Shh, easy, baby, I’ve got you.”

 

As if he had his power cut, Derek deflates completely, going lax under Stiles’ hand, and okay, that’s a little new. Stiles mulls it over for a moment, slowly working his fingers in and out, listening to Derek’s heavy breaths for any sign of pain. When all three fingers bottom out, he lets up on the pressure of his hand, gently petting Derek’s spine instead as he debates his next move. He’s got a sudden theory in his head, and as Derek starts squirming impatiently again, Stiles decides it’s worth a shot. He presses his hand down again, keeping Derek still, and rewards him with a sucking kiss to the nearest buttock when he relaxes. “There we go, babe. You’re doing so well.” Derek shivers, still hiding his face in his arms, but he pants heavily, and Stiles can feel the muscles move around his fingers, like Derek is trying to pull him in, too eager to wait for the fingers to come on their own. “You ready for one more?” Derek nods, but Stiles stops what he’s doing. “Use your words, baby.”

 

“Yes. Please,” Derek manages, a little muffled, but good enough, and Stiles brings the reward.

 

“Good boy. I’m gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

 

Derek makes a tiny noise, almost like a whimper, and Stiles worries for a moment that he’s fucked up. But Derek’s back arches under his hand, and as he presses down again reflexively there’s a definite moan, and Derek’s thighs shudder. “There we go,” Stiles murmurs. “Just relax, baby, lemme do this for you.”

 

“Okay,” Derek says, completely unprompted, and in a strangely meek sort of way. So Stiles starts working in a fourth finger, his other hand keeping Derek pressed into the mattress, and it’s kind of impressive that he doesn’t even try to move to get friction for his cock.

 

“You’re doing great, Derek. You’re being so good.”

 

The small whimper happens again, and Stiles feels elated that he got this right. That he gambled and won something so precious. He pushes his fingers in harder, crooking them a little to get a better angle, and can’t help but echo Derek’s strained moan with one of his own. “Talk to me, Derek. Does this feel good?”

 

“Yeah. Fuck.”

 

“That’s good, baby, you’re doing great,” Stiles says, and picks up the pace, pushing in harder and faster, relishing the little _ah- ah- ah-_ noises Derek starts making. It’s ridiculously hot. “That’s it, Derek, let me do this for you. Just let me-”

 

“Stiles, please, fuck-” Derek hisses, hips moving under Stiles’ hand. There’s no chance that he could really hold Derek down, which makes it all the more amazing that Derek lets him do this. But there’s obviously something else he wants now, enough so that he struggles to relax.

  
“Please what, sweetheart?”

 

“Please, I-” Derek grits out, like every word must be forced out of him. “I wanna be… I wanna feel… _full_. But I need… I need. Fuck.”

 

“You can do it, Derek. I know you can, babe. Just tell me,” Stiles coaxes gently, experimentally pressing his palm down harder, and letting out a surprised gasp when Derek goes lax under his hand again. “Talk to me.”

 

Derek takes several deep breaths, each one shuddering out of him, and his neck is blazing red. He’s literally battling himself, and Stiles gives him time, just keeping his fingers inside until Derek tells him how he wants it. “I want… to be split open on your fingers. But I need to come. I need you to go deeper.”

 

“Oh. Oh, okay. I think we can make that happen. Thank you for telling me,” Stiles says softly, already working out the logistics, but Derek is turning his head to look at him for the first time all night with a confused frown.

 

“How?”

 

Stiles leans in for a slow and sweet kiss, fingers still trapped inside Derek’s soft heat, and he gently guides Derek’s head back down again before letting him go. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Didn’t I tell you I’ve got you?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek says on a sigh, and relaxes beautifully while Stiles starts rearranging things. The problem is that four fingers is great for being fucked wide open, but not so good for reach, so Derek isn’t getting anything for his prostate, and since he also isn’t touching his cock, Stiles needs to go a different way. But he’s a great problem solver, and it’s quick work to add more lube and get both hands into play. He switches from four fingers to two, but instead adds the thumb from his other hand, keeping Derek’s hole spread wide while he fucks in as deep as he can go with his other two fingers. He knows he’s on target when Derek bucks under him, no longer held down by a hand on his back, but it’s fine, Derek told him what he needs, and all Stiles wants now is to give it to him.

 

“There we go, baby, there we go,” he croons, and Derek make a desperate mewling noise against his forearm as Stiles rams his fingers in again and again, right on target, and he damn near has his arm broken from how hard Derek jackknifes as he comes. His whole body shakes, and he mashes himself back against Stiles’ hands, cock swaying heavy and wet under him as he chases the last waves. “Good boy, you’re doing so good,” Stiles pants, and Derek lets out a last whimpering breath before collapsing completely, uncaring of the mess or the painful angle of Stiles’ arm.

 

But, then again, Stiles doesn’t care much either. He just eases out his fingers, and doesn’t hesitate to close his slick hand around himself, coming his brains out in twenty seconds flat with the help of the deliciously obscene view in front of him. He keeps a hand on Derek’s ass to spread it open to his gaze, and, god, Derek looks _wrecked_ , hole red and glistening, and his back rising and falling rapidly as he heaves for breath. Yeah, Stiles doesn’t need more than that.

 

He watches his come splatter across Derek’s ass with a great deal of satisfaction, and for some reason he’s not entirely clear on, reaches out to massage it into the skin. Maybe Derek’s wolfish nature is rubbing off on him. Whatever the case, Derek makes a purring rumble in his throat, so he definitely approves, and when he finally rolls over, arms and legs moving like wet noodles, he greets Stiles with a huge smile. “That was amazing,” he sighs, and Stiles can already tell he’ll be floating on that statement for a few weeks at least. Derek never says shit like that.

 

“Well, you’re welcome, honey,” Stiles says, and flops down on Derek’s chest with a grin. It fades a little when Derek’s face goes weirdly soft.

 

“You _can_ , you know. Call me… things.”

 

“Huh?” Stiles isn’t proud of his sluggish brain, but he did just come pretty amazingly, so he’s willing to cut himself some slack.

 

“Use endearments. Or something. In front of people. If you want to, I mean.”

 

Stiles blinks, because okay, he hadn’t really expected that. They are an item, sure, but so far it’s been very low on the PDA, mostly thanks to the habit of Stiles being barely legal, and Scott making barf noises if he catches them doing anything remotely cute. Which makes him a flaming hypocrite. But Derek hadn’t seemed interested in bringing that aspect into play, even after a year, so Stiles had respected his boundaries. And those are still important.

 

“Do _you_ want to?”

 

It settles something in Stiles that Derek actually gives it some thought before answering. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. I might need to get used to it, but… yeah. I want to.”

 

“Then I shall refer to you from now on as honeybuns,” Stiles jokes, because things got too serious for a while there, and he laughs gleefully when Derek glares at him.

 

“You shall very much not.”

 

“Babycakes?”

 

“No.”

 

“Studmuffin?”

 

“No.”

 

It’s not a problem, though. Stiles has a pretty good idea what Derek likes, now.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> [feel free to find me on Tumblr](http://ladydrace.tumblr.com).


End file.
